Part 43 (1/2)
here a very long time.”
The thought was singularly appealing.
Chapter Nine.
Sydney picked up the nail, then straightened, certain that Sam's eyes were raking her from the heel of her cowboy boots to the waistband of her jeans. She doubted he got much further than that, but she didn't care. She turned slowly, savoring the feeling of power she had somehow acquired over him in the past couple of days.
”This,” she said, holding the item out for inspection, ”is a nail. We don't leave these lying around on the floor. Someone might step on them, and that would hurt. Oh, look. There's another one.” She bent right in front of him and brushed his chest with her forearm on her way up. ”We have to be careful out here in the workshop, Sam. Safety is no laughing matter.”
Sam grunted in answer. Sydney smiled sweetly and turned back to the pegboard. She set about explaining all the various tools and giving him possible uses for each. In reality, she had no idea what she was saying. All she knew was Sam was standing only inches behind her and he was paying as little attention to what she was saying as she was.
Three days had pa.s.sed since he'd kissed her in the kitchen, and she was fast learning that he was determined that she practice kissing as often as possible. If he could be persuaded to work at all, he was never in his room for more than ten minutes without coming out to check on her.
And Sydney loved it.
She didn't want to speculate on his reasons. He didn't want to discuss Miss Sasquatchette, whoever she was. Sam never got personal calls, and Sydney was desperately hoping that he didn't have anyone waiting for him in New York.
”Oh, Sam,” she said, pointing at a crescent wrench to her right, ”would you get that for me? I can't seem to reach it.”
He muttered something under his breath and reached out to take it down. Sydney slid her hand up his forearm and over his hand to take the wrench from him. She could have sworn she felt him s.h.i.+ver. She definitely heard him curse.
”Oh, not this one,” she purred. ”The one higher up.” She leaned back against him as he reached, thoroughly enjoying teasing him. Never in her life had a man looked at her with anything besides impatience or disdain. Sam looked at her with l.u.s.t, plain and simple. Oh, there were those other looks, those looks that a less sensible girl might have mistaken for love. But Sydney was nothing if not sensible.
”Maybe the one higher up,” she said, pointing. ”Yes, I think that's the one...”
She jumped as Sam grabbed a rag, swiped it over the bench surface, spun her around, and plunked her down on the wood with enough force to make her teeth rattle. ”All right, enough is enough. You can only tease me for so long before I snap. And I'm snapping.” ”Tease?” she said, putting her hand over her chest and blinking in surprise. ”Me?” ”Your jeans are so tight that I doubt you can breathe, your s.h.i.+rt is unb.u.t.toned far enough to give you pneumonia, and you're wearing makeup. Which you don't need, by the way.” ”I don't-” He covered her mouth with his and cut off her words. Well, he certainly was effective when it came to making a bid for a little silence. He kissed her until she forgot what she'd been about to say, then she forgot her name, and she came close to forgetting to breathe. She had only enough presence of mind to notice the last because the lack of air was starting to make her ears ring.
She froze. That wasn't her ears ringing. It was the doorbell!
”Sam,” she gasped frantically. ”Let me go.”
”No,” he murmured, holding her more tightly.
”Someone's at the door!”
Sam stiffened, then lifted his head. His eyes were wide.
”Oh, no.”
”Oh, no, what?”
”I invited the Ladies Aid Society over for lunch.”
”Sam!” she wailed.
”I forgot,” he said, releasing her and stumbling back. ”You go answer the door. I'll be right there.”
”Me?” she screeched. ”I look kissed!”
”And I look aroused. Give me five minutes to let things, ahem, settle down.” He smiled at her hopefully.
”Please?” She jumped down off the bench and tried to resurrect her hair. It was useless, so she dragged her fingers through it and straightened her clothes. Putting her shoulders back, she tried to recapture some of her dignity.
”Syd?”
She turned at the door. Sam was staring at her with a gentle smile.
”I love you.”
She froze. Then she gestured to the bench. ”Because of-”
He shook his head sharply. ”No.”
”Oh, Sam.”
”Go answer the door, honey. This is going to be the shortest Ladies Aid meeting in history.”
Four hours later, Sydney was ready to throw the Ladies Aid Society out of her house without any
regard to where they landed. Sam ushered them out with his usual charm, and Sydney went in to start the dishes. One thing she could say for Sam-he'd taught her how to keep a clean kitchen.
She jumped when she felt arms go around her.
”Only me.”
She leaned back against him. ”Did you mean what you said before?”
”Yes.” He took the last dish out of her hand, stuck it in the dish-washer, then turned her around. He smiled down at her. ”Let's go snuggle on the couch. I'm beat, how about you?”
”The Society is exhausting.”
”But very impressed with your brownies.”
”I couldn't care less.”
Sam laughed. ”I know. And that tickles me.” He kissed the end of her nose. ”Let's go.”
She grabbed a magazine off the counter as they went into the living room.